


you're a thousand stories long

by significantalliance



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: A bit of swearing, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fan artist! Donghyuck, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, High School Students, M/M, Mark Lee-centric, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Writer!Mark Lee, brief mentions of christmas cause this is two months late, confident gay!mark, johnny is mark's cousin, mark has low self-esteem, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 13:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17726423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/significantalliance/pseuds/significantalliance
Summary: “@fullsun sent you a message.”It was probably one of those endless tumblr spams that Mark received on a weekly basis, but he was bored out of his mind, and the user’s name had picked his curiosity."(or Mark Lee, a frustrated fanfiction writer, is sent to the countryside, in order to be tutored when his mother finds out about his grades. What he doesn't expect is the company, or rather the never-ending teasing of a mysterious rainbow-haired and witty boy, who just happens to be the artist son of his teacher. On the other hand, he shamelessly confides in the bright anonymous fanartist in his Tumblr dms, who might just give him his inspiration back.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! so I've been writing this for a while, hence why it contains mentions of christmas cause it was supposed to be posted by then... This came out after I had a major writer's block for another wip and I needed to pour my frustration into something else. So you know why Mark is feeling ultra insecure about his work in that fic... Just a heads up, it probably won't last longer than 3 chapters and you might find markhyuck kind of OOC but I wanted to change their usual dynamics for once :')
> 
> I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes, enjoy!

"Fucking Hell, I can’t get this right!" 

Mark brutally crumbled a sheet of paper for the umpteenth time and let it join the rest of the balls lying around on the floor. His messy hair that he kept running his hands through, was sticking up at odd angles and giving him a faux air of Edward Scissorhands. He smiled at the thought, his nerves and stress of the day finally taking over what was left of his sanity. He was torn between crying himself to sleep because he hadn’t gotten proper rest in days or put on a good show and hope it would distract him from what the hell he was doing.

He didn’t even know what he was doing. His notebook had been opened on the same page for weeks, slowly filling itself with meaningless words, gone and erased not even two days later, and going back to its blank spaces.

Mark was hopeless. He threw a glance at the clock on the wall, signaling that it was getting late, then towards the sheets scattered messily on his bed, remnants of his unfinished homework and endless procrastination. His writer's block was not only fucking up his sleep schedule but his grades as well, and if he didn’t do something about it soon, they would drop lower than his current self-esteem.

“Mark!”

The latter groaned at the voice of his mother shouting from downstairs.

“Coming!” He replied, extricating himself from his chair and sighing as his knees almost gave out underneath him. He needed to eat before he would start starving himself to death.

He raced down the stairs, coming to an abrupt stop when he noticed his mother planted on the last step, a pinched look on her face and her arms crossed against her chest. Mark gulped audibly. What the heck was she mad for?

“Lee Minhyung…”

Oh, the use of his full name was never good.

“Mom? I promise I haven’t done anything wrong. I may have drunk a little at Jeno’s party last Saturday, but that was just a beer, you know I-“

“You what?” She shrieked, getting even angrier by the second.

“Oh shit.”

“Don’t swear when I’m talking to you.”

Mark looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling small and anxious. He could sense his mother’s disappointing gaze piercing through his head.

“Minhyung… This just confirmed my suspicions. I know you’ve been hiding your grades from your father and I since the start of the semester.”

Mark groaned.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed!” She reprimanded him when he was about to interrupt her. “I thought you were spending hours and hours in your room to study but that’s obviously not the case, provided the call I got from your math teacher last night. Mark, you’re failing.”

The boy grimaced, biting his lip. Being called a failure by his own mother was not even remotely surprising, considering the number of times his parents would rave about his brother’s exploits, indirectly qualifying their younger one as a disappointment. But the little faith his teachers had in him… Well, that hurt.

“Mark… What’s happening?”

The latter one looked up, caught off guard. Her tone was softer, almost… motherly. Which wasn’t a recurring thing in the Lee household. She had always been harsh on him, not necessarily showing any animosity towards him, but more like a permanent distance, always acting cold and deprived of any emotions.

Getting into writing proved to be Mark’s best life decision yet, as he thought he could cover those harsh and delusional words with his own. He wanted to turn this negative vibe into a positive one and pour his bad emotions into his work, hopefully making it better.

“I’m fine, mom. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

She looked dubitative and Mark knew he was doomed.

“I’m worried about your future, Mark. And your behavior has been insufferable-“

_When have you ever worried about me?_

“- and this is why your father and I decided to send you to your aunt from the countryside on Christmas break-“

“Excuse me?”

He was never fond of Christmas with his family which consisted more of an exchange of insults, homophobic and jealous comments than an actual exchange of presents but… he still had Jeno to spend New Year with and the rest of his friends. And he could still confine between the walls of his room if he ever felt the need to breathe. So why would-

“Are you even listening to me?”

Mark flinched at the snap in her voice.

“Listen, you’re going to your cousins and that’s it. Mrs. Seo has a very good tutor I would like you to work with. Pack your things, you’re leaving at the end of the week.”

And she walked out of the hall, leaving no room for discussion and a stunned Mark on the steps.

***

 

If devastation was the feeling which constricted his chest, Mark thought it was an understatement. Nervous energy was running through his veins, leaving him with trembling knees and fidgeting like a new middle grader. He had been standing in front of the unknown house for far too long now, recovering from his trip and the beginning of an umpteenth mental breakdown in the space of thirty-six hours. He had vainly tried to write on the train but the constant lack of inspiration and the endless writing block he had been on for days, had tired him out more than anything else.

He was hopeless. His stories were all on hiatus, probably making him lose half of his community and the last time he had updated anything more than 200 words of pathetic excuse, took him back to Halloween, after failing half of the Fictober challenge. He felt sorry for his readers, but mostly to himself: his grades were deflating, and he was starting to worry about his mental health, already low on a daily basis.

His mother might have not been wrong after all. This break from the city might do him some good or either leave him more depressed than he already was at the beginning of the week.

Eventually, he took a hesitant step towards the door, stumbling in front of it. The house, or preferably a mansion, was _huge_. He carded his fingers through his hair, hoping that his disheveled attitude wouldn’t surprise anyone. He didn’t need to be scolded on his vacations, especially by a family he barely knew. His aunt would visit sometimes but his mother and she weren’t on the best of terms, hence why he never spent Christmas or any celebrations with them for the matter. He had seen his cousin Johnny a handful of times on gatherings, but he might not have been older than twelve then.

The brunet rang the bell, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. Gripping the handle of his suitcase as strong as he could, he rocked on his feet, waiting for the inevitable.

“You must be Mark! Hello!”

One of the tallest boys he had ever met was standing in the doorway, a warm and welcoming smile stretched on his lips. Despite his nervousness, Mark managed to produce a small smile of his own, the boy’s energy communicative.

“Wait…” Mark realized. “Are you Johnny?”

“I don’t know if I should be offended or not that you didn’t even remember my face, but at least you got my name right, man.”

Mark’s gaze went to his feet, feeling ashamed for a second.

“S-sorry, the trip was pretty long…”

Johnny raised his hands above his head, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Hey man, what’s got you looking so glum? It’s okay, I don’t mind!”

He sent another genuine smile Mark’s way and the latter knew then that everything was going to be okay.

“Well, come in. Don’t be shy!”

Trailing after him into the hall, Mark felt at ease for the first time in a while. He knew he was mostly here to study but couldn’t help but thought about the endless possibilities this place had to offer: maybe he was on his way to get his inspiration back.

After vaguely awkward introductions to the rest of the family, including his aunt, his uncle and his tutor, Mark excused himself to the guest room, eager to take a good shower and even a light nap before dinner.

His hopes were short-lived when he discovered what, or rather _who_ was waiting for him on the carpeted floor.

“AAAAH!”

Neither of the two boys knew who screamed first nor who had screamed the loudest, but they knew one damn thing for sure: neither of them was ready to see the latter.

The first thing Mark noticed about the room was the colors. A stream of rainbows. An explosion of emotions. But rather than embellishing the walls, the colorful strings adorned the ground and most importantly, the face and clothes of the most beautiful boy Mark had ever laid eyes on. He was neither hot like a football jock or gorgeous like a Hermes model but beautiful and unique in his own way, making it the most outstanding view the writer had the chance to get today. His golden skin was glowing under the sun rays streaming through the windows and his cheeks were enhanced by splashing streams of silver, gold and purple paint, making him look even softer rather than dirty and messy. His light auburn locks were assorted with reddish and bright pink highlights and if Mark might have thought it was an odd mix, at first sight, he was still swooned by the boy’s charms.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the eerie voice coming out of his lips.

“Are you done staring, freak?”

_Wait, what?_

Mark could only mumble a few apologies before flushing like a tomato when the boy took his time to check him out and scrutinize his face as well, just as Mark had done seconds ago. Mark didn’t feel beautiful whatsoever.

“Donghyuck!”

Mark turned around to see his aunt panting up the stairs, looking frantic and awfully embarrassed.

“I told you to call me Haechan, Mrs. Seo…”

So-called Donghyuck-I-go-by-Haechan whined loudly.

If Mark thought it was cute, he remained still, finding his shoes suddenly way more interesting.

“And I told you to stop messing around with those paints, but you didn’t listen to me either… This is my nephew, Mark,” She said as she gestured to the latter. “As you know, he’s going to stay here for a little while to benefit from your mother’s tutoring and spend Christmas with us.”

“Oh, you’re having school problems, golden boy?” Haechan asked in a teasing tone, a smirk stretching his features.

“Wh-what?”

He silently cursed himself for stuttering, as he was more taken aback by the nickname than the question itself. So most people saw him as a failure, great!

“I mean, you look quite put together, I wouldn’t have taken you for a disorganized student.”

Mark felt the anger crawl the back of his neck. The nerve of this boy!

“And you look like a mess, but you don’t see me comparing you to your mother, who’s a teacher,” He bit back.

Haechan didn’t look offended in any way whatsoever and even had the dare to smile. And if he hadn’t just called Mark a failure, perhaps the writer would have been charmed once again.

“Wow, he’s actually witty!”

Mrs. Seo, who had silently watched their entire exchange, finally snapped.

“Dong- Haechan, that’s enough. Get your paints and clean up this mess, Mark will be staying in this room.”

She turned to beam at the latter.

“Mark, make yourself at home. If you need anything, Johnny and I are right across the hall. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

Mark sent a grateful smile her way and she let herself out of the room with a last glare thrown Haechan’s way.

A long silence ensued.

“So?” Mark uttered.

“So what?”

Mark leaned on his left side, both hands on his hips.

“Well, are you planning on leaving or are you staying to see me showering, ‘cause like, I’m not easily embarrassed about those things but I would very much prefer to have some alone time to myself and-“

“I’ll go!”

When Mark gazed at Haechan, he was surprised to see the flushed look the other was sporting, his mouth slightly agape and looking like he was about to explode.

_Ooh, okay. Panicked gay it is._

The rainbow-haired boy hastily gathered his things and crammed them in his overflowing backpack before taking a final look around the room to make sure he had everything he needed. In a last attempt to control his nerves, his hands flew to his face to pat his cheeks awkwardly, as if that would make his blush fade away.

It was _kind of_ cute.

“Well, see you later, I guess?”

And without further embarrassment, the sun-kissed boy ran out of the room.

_This was going to be interesting._

***

 

After taking a quick shower, Mark still had some time to kill before dinner. Too lazy to unpack, he scrolled down his phone distractedly in search of any inspiration, anything that would get him out of his intellectual misery.

A sudden notification sound interrupted his twitter venture.

“ _@fullsun sent you a message._ ”

It was probably one of those endless tumblr spams that Mark received on a weekly basis, but he was bored out of his mind and the user’s name had picked his curiosity.

“ _Hello @minhyung-world,_

 _I’ve read your beautiful fics a_ couple _nights ago and was highly inspired. I’m a_ fanartist _, as you’ve probably seen, and I was wondering if you would let me use your characters to sketch them as in comics or something… Not that I need to receive endless validation about my art anyway but if you ever wanna check it out, my profile is one click away!”_

Mark almost scoffed. He was much more entertained by the overconfident tone of the request than the message itself. Although he was amused by the sender’s self-confidence, he doubted his reader would feel as happy to credit him once they would know that he hadn’t been able to write anything remotely entertaining for months. And even if he decided to accept, would this affect his fandom in a negative way? Would they think that he was letting them down by collaborating with a fan artist?

Who was he kidding, he had already let them down ages ago anyway.

Not dwelling on his remorse any longer, he let his finger pads fly over the keys and decided to end the sender’s misery, that he had left on read.

_“Hi @fullsun,_

_Although I feel honored that you have taken interest into my work and was inspired enough to make a drawing out of it, I’m not sure what you would have to adapt to comics, given that my fics are not even halfway finished and as interesting as you make them sound. Perhaps another writer’s work would fit your wishes better.”_

Mark bit his upper lip anxiously, a nervous habit of his, before sending out the message. Feeling tired and famished, he lowered his phone on his chest, gazing into empty space. The sudden buzz of the device interrupted his way into dreamland.

The black-haired boy was surprised to see that @fullsun had already replied to his quite obsequious message.

_“Wow, so humble, Minhyung! Can I call you Minhyung? I feel like keeping on typing your user has become cringy at this point. I promise that your fics are not as shitty as you make them sound lmao. Perhaps take a look at my work before making up your mind? I bet you didn’t even click on that profile!”_

Mark outright laughed at this point. Embarrassed that his admirer had somehow seen right through his antics, he promptly clicked on the said admirer’s icon, intrigued. They had some guts and Mark couldn’t delay his interest any longer. His thumbs landed on a bright and colorful blog, which somehow perfectly represented its owner, “fullsun”. His profile picture was a cute doodle of a brown-haired boy, which he assumed was a representation of the fan artist.

_A boy? Interesting._

Mark couldn’t hide his curiosity. Most of his readers were mainly female individuals, oscillating between the age of sixteen and twenty-five. For a moment, he felt proud that his writing had reached such a large scale of internauts.

The writer scrolled for the next five minutes through the boy’s blog, liking his favorite posts to make sure that @fullsun would see it. Mark couldn’t deny it: the guy was talented. His art consisted of a mix of digital pieces and minimalist paintings. It didn’t seem like he had collaborated with a lot of writers in the past and Mark didn’t know whether to feel flattered or suspicious. He understood, though, part of the meaning of the artist’s overflowing confidence. @fullsun was MASSIVE. He had accumulated thousands and thousands of likes and reblogs on his posts, making him one of the most followed artists of the platform. To be perfectly honest, Mark had never been one for art but even, he could admit that @fullsun deserved the success. Feeling overwhelmed with this discovery, he hastily came back to his DMs.

_“Wow, I didn’t know that you had such a large community! Your art is honestly amazing, I now feel ashamed for refusing your deal in the first place…”_

**“Are you saying you wouldn’t have even bothered to look me up if it wasn’t for my number of followers? Ouch…”**

_“No! No, I promise that’s not what I meant! I was just surprised to see your popularity because I’m usually invisible, and I’m sure you’ve got much more interesting writers among those thousand followers of yours…”_

**“Chill, I was kidding… I always have this effect on strangers. And why is it so hard to believe that I actually like your stuff? Give yourself some credit, man!”**

Mark couldn’t help but blush at the underlying compliment. Over the years, despite receiving dozens of good critics for his work, he had never quite shaken off the feeling of perfectionism, sometimes too overbearing, that would usually cloud the vision of his writing. In recent months, the feeling had only worsened, leading to this state of endless dissatisfaction and continuous writer’s block. He could never understand how people could call him talented for writing “that”: he didn’t feel talented or gifted whatsoever/in any way. Struggling for months to write a handful of meaningless words was not his definition of talent. On the other hand, @fullsun was mind-blowing and he knew it. Would this mysterious boy give the self-confidence Mark needed?

Suddenly, Mark found himself furiously typing on the keyboard. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into and it was definitely not the place, nor the time to be blurting out his anxiety, especially to a complete stranger, but a hopeful feeling told him that this boy would take him as he was and not give him shit for ranting.

_“Sorry, I just feel like I should definitely not be receiving your compliments, given that I haven’t been able to write anything in MONTHS, and my self-esteem is so low that anything I’ve ever produced, is never good enough to me. I’ve never felt like… like, this is it? This is THE plot? This is THE story, you know? I do excel in literature and my English grades are straight As, but my creativity on the other hand… Just by looking through your blog, I can already tell that one of your posts is better than all mines combined. To be fucking honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing anymore, writing used to be the only thing that made me happy but now, I feel more frustrated than anything else… so yeah.”_

Mark’s heart was pounding. He truly had no idea why he was dropping all his teenage angst on this curious boy, who went by the perhaps-really-cute-nickname fullsun. At least, being honest to a fan artist might be easier than dealing with a simple reader, who might not understand his struggle. Perhaps he even shared the same problems as Mark? The writer doubted it. His art seemed so out of the ordinary, so unique: he did not look like he had any trouble finding the inspiration. Oh, how he wished he could relate!

**“Wow, man… I’m sorry that you feel like this. I really didn’t want to come off overenthusiastic (even if that’s my state of mind pretty much every single second of the day lmao) but I just want you to know that I truly meant what I said! I have no right to tell you how you should feel but if hyping up your work might help you feel better, I really don’t mind! I mean, as you’ve probably seen, I don’t usually collab with a lot of artists because I can never seem to find a story that fits my style, but yours! Oh my god, the plots might have taken you ages to come up with, but I swear they’re so good! Anyway, please, don’t assume anything from my own art… I struggle like every artist at times, I’m not always confident and happy about my creations and more often than not, I end up giving up on half of the stuff I’ve started. Each creator eventually reaches a point where they can’t seem to find the right path but… everything will be okay in the end. Patience is the key and god knows that I am aware of its frustration, cause you feel like you’ve waited long enough already but… perhaps all you need is to let it come to you? Don’t force it, just let it reach you. Sometimes, you need to distance yourself from the things you love so you can come back to them stronger.**

**Wow, this got deep real fast. Anyway, you’re in high school? I thought I was talking to a 20-something-year-old college student. I mean, you kinda talked like a grandpa but I guess that’s just your inner writer side speaking hehe."**

The smile that Mark held was enough to say how he felt. Wow, this guy was definitely something else.

_“Me, a grandpa? Your overuse of lmao’s certainly didn’t give me a hint about your age…_

_Thank you for your words, this means a lot, I think I needed to hear them. People have been telling me to keep on writing for months, saying that they were certain about the quality of my work and never questioned my fics at any time. But you’re right, perhaps I just need a break. Need to think about what I want to do, where I want to go next._

_Anyway, talking to you has been a pleasure, I’ve got to go but I really appreciate what you’ve said to me. Perhaps we could talk about that collab again?_

_P.S.: I’m a senior in high school."_

***

 

The following morning, Mark woke up feeling rather anxious, a string of restless energy coursing through his veins. At 8 am sharp, he had already bolted out of his room, despite his first class not starting until thirty minutes. His aunt was surprised as well but welcomed him nonetheless with a stack of pancakes and a cup of coffee, just as nice as she had been the previous day. Mark was still trying to swallow his guilt since his own mother had basically forced his visit onto the Seo family and he felt like he was intruding in some way, given that it was Christmas break.

As Mark was getting started on his third pancake, Mrs. Lee suddenly walked into the kitchen, greeting him on a chirpy tone. The teenager noticed the shiny look in her eyes, a certain stare that her son had definitely inherited. Not that Mark had given much thought to it; _whaaaat._

“Are you ready to start our first class, Minhyung?”

Mark perked up, intrigued by the use of his Korean name.

“Why, as ready as I can be, I guess... And I actually go by Mark, Minhyung is just my mother getting angry at me…,” He sheepishly admitted, blushing profusely.

Mrs. Lee regarded him with a blank look but nodded her head nevertheless, apologizing with a small smile.

“Let’s go then, Mark.”

Little did they know that Haechan had been outside the room for the last minute, waiting to make his presence known.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Sorry for the long wait, I struggled to write the end of this chap...  
> Hope you enjoy though! 
> 
> (I apologize for any grammar mistakes in advance! I did my best but there might be some left...)

 

“You, Mark Lee? A writer? What are you doing here with my mom then?”

Mark couldn’t say that his first lesson had gone as planned. He didn’t really know what to expect but that was definitely not a certain caramel skinned boy bursting through the door of the study room and uttering the first thought that came to his mind.

Haechan’s mom was quick to react, her brows furrowing as soon as she heard her son coming through the door.

“Donghyuck!”

To be honest, the few times Mark and Haechan had come across each other -whether it was in the halls or in the kitchen-, Mark couldn’t say that he had enjoyed them very much, as Haechan would spend most of his time slandering him or his ability to think. This morning was one of those moments.

“Don’t mind him, Mark,” Her mother scolded.

Haechan wore a certain glint in his eyes as if he hadn’t just meant what he said. Mark chose to ignore his comment since he felt like he didn’t own to his status of writer either.

He and his tutor had spent the remaining time of the lesson talking about the boy’s hobbies, and although he was reluctant to share the truth about his writing -since his own mother didn’t even know about it- his happiness to babble about inspirational authors to a teacher overcame his anxiety.

Chasing the boy who had skipped briskly into the room with a curious glance, he remained silent, nonetheless.

Haechan sat on the couch opposite to their desk, without waiting for his mother’s consent and acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His eyes lazily looked around the room, suddenly boring into Mark’s ones when he came across the latter’s face.

Mark grew breathless and rested his eyes on Mrs. Lee’s face, getting too self-conscious. He wasn’t very fond of the painter’s overanalyzing gaze on him, as if he was trying to pierce the layers of his skin.

“Donghyuck, what are you doing here?” His mother finally gave up, sighing as she stared at her son.

“Just wanted to see if Mark wanted to hang out after his class!”

_Wait, what?_

For a second, Mark almost believed that Donghyuck-or-whatever-his-name-was, looked sheepish but the thought instantly flew away as the latter threw him a devilish grin. _What was he up to?_

“Well…” Mrs. Lee started. “Do you, Mark?”

The brunet looked dumbfounded for a moment, as he couldn’t quite believe that Haechan’s mother would be keen on letting him go after just witnessing her son’s endless slander. As much as he didn’t want to offend her by refusing, his eagerness to hang out with Haechan was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps that he enjoyed seeing the boy all flustered and cute in front of his eyes the night of his arrival but that was before that potty mouth of him had sassed Mark any chance he had.

“I mean, I know you two might not have the most compatible personalities but… I think it would do you some good to talk to another person your age while you’re here Mark and-“

Mrs. Lee threw her son a knowing look.

“… Donghyuck could definitely use a friend.”

Said boy scoffed at his mother’s revelation, pouting like a child. If Mark hadn’t been already annoyed with the boy’s antics, he would have almost cooed at the sight of Haechan’s cute lips.

After a minute of reflection, Mark decided that if he were to stay two weeks here, most likely in Haechan’s company, they should at least be civil with each other.

“I guess we could hang out…”

If Mark had looked at the right moment, he wouldn’t have missed Donghyuck’s little squeal under his breath.

 

***

 

“So… Why are you spending all your time here, anyway? It’s not like you and the Seos are related…”

Haechan gave the writer an unimpressed look.

“Wow, thanks captain obvious. No, I’m not a relative but my mom and Myeoryun have been best friends for years and given that my younger siblings are always staying over at my dad’s on Christmas break, my mother and I always spend ours here.”

“Oh… so your parents are separated?”

The bronzed skinned boy tsked.

“Uh yeah. That’s what I just said.”

Haechan went back to his occupations while Mark had the decency to look flustered for a second.

“Sorry… I never know how to talk about this.”

Haechan looked at him curiously.

“Talk about what?

“Well, you know, feelings and stuff. My parents barely acknowledge each other's presence and I don't grace them with mine that often as well so… I-I always come off as awkward…”

If he were being honest, he had no idea why he was suddenly confessing into Haechan but this boy seemed to have some sort of control over him, that pushed him to burst out whatever went through his mind.

Haechan kept quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful.

“Hey, Mark. Listen, I'm sorry about yesterday. And you shouldn't feel awkward talking to me, I'm literally the chillest person to exist.”

(“No, you're not.” “Shut up.”)

The boy cleared his throat.

“Anyway, I'm glad we agree on this at least. My parents’ relationship has always been awful, even when they were still together. That's pretty much why I took refuge in art.”

_Wow, we're actually so similar._

Mark must’ve been silent for too long because Haechan saw this moment of stupor as an opportunity to pinch his arm, bringing him back to reality.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Mark hesitated.

“Uhm no… It’s- nevermind.”

Probably sensing his discomfort, Haechan thankfully dropped it. Mark was not ready to talk about his writing and his never-ending struggle to another stranger. He looked to the side, in search of a distraction.

“So…” he started hesitatingly. “Which grade are you in?”

“Well, I would be a junior-”

“Would?” Mark interrupted, surprised by the confession.

“Yeah, due to my mom being a teacher and several other reasons, I’ve been homeschooled pretty much all my life. My age would make me a junior but I’ve probably done things differently, so I have no idea how it compares to the average high school student.”

“Wow…”

Mark was rendered speechless. The curiosity was killing him. Haechan seemed to sense his confusion and beat him to it.

“Listen dude, no offense, but I would very much appreciate if you could keep your questions to yourself. Like you, there’s just some things I don’t like to talk about.”

The older boy marveled at the change in Haechan’s behavior. In the space of a few minutes, he had gone from soft to cold, his face devoid of any expression. Mark couldn’t hold him accountable for it though, as he had been the one getting intrusive.

“Sorry,” He muttered, his eyes flying to the ground.

Haechan simply shrugged, not looking up at him.

They remained silent once again, Mark rummaging in his thoughts in hopes of saving the heavy atmosphere. His eyes would ogle everywhere except Haechan, sat on the ground getting his paintbrushes out. The want to leave was suddenly overwhelming. Perhaps he could exit the room like nothing happened and find something productive to do on his own. Talk to that @fullsun boy again, perhaps. Ugh, who was he kidding? As if that boy would ever talk to a loser like him. It seemed like one of those cliché social interactions: the nerd talking to the jock, the funny one.

Sweat was starting to dampen the back of his neck and Mark knew he had to do something before nerves would get the best of him.

“Can I take a look at your paintings?” He suddenly blurted out.

If Haechan seemed to hesitate for a second, it didn’t last, and the tanned boy was handing him his massive artbook in no time. Mark sighed in relief, sending a small smile his way. From what Mark had gathered, the painter didn’t seem to hold any grudges or get easily vexed. Their previous conversation was already behind them.

The older carefully set the book in his lap, making sure it was perfectly secured before turning the pages. Between each of them were tucked post-its and several notes where Haechan had apparently scribbled the techniques he had used, his different inspirations behind the piece and its meaning. Mark was beyond amazed. Not only was it detailed to the point you couldn’t tell it belonged to the hands of a 17-year-old, it also looked familiar for some reason, but Mark had a hard time pinpointing it. He swore he had come across something similar before. It was when he flipped through the next page that a weird feeling crept down his back. _This scene, those captions, it was_ -

“Oh, would you look at the time!” Haechan suddenly exclaimed.

He snatched the book out of Mark’s hands before the latter could utter a word. Mark could only gape at him, completely unaware of the turmoil that Haechan was going through.

“I just remembered my mom actually needed me for something.”

Looking frantic, his things dangling from his arms, Haechan exited the room without another word, leaving mark entirely flabbergasted.

_What had just happened?_

 

_***_

 

Mark chuckled lightly as he stared down at his phone screen. He swiped the notification eagerly, thinking about what to say next. A frying smell was starting to perfume the atmosphere, indicating that dinner would be ready in a few minutes. Mark was laying down on the couch and had been smiling to himself like an idiot for the past half hour. He was texting @fullsun again while the others were all huddled in the kitchen, tasking themselves with the food. After witnessing Mark’s awful cooking skills when he first arrived here, they decided it would be wiser for him to be exempted of those chores. He couldn’t agree more.

Instead, he would benefit from these precious minutes of free time to slide into @fullsun’s DMs and find out once again how wonderfully entertaining the blogger was. They were currently chatting about their previous embarrassing choices of fan art and fan writing, Mark nervously exposing his former passion for High School Musical. The artist had made fun of him for a total of three texts before diving into the subject and asking him about his favorite movie and characters. If someone had told Mark he would be talking about who had the best voice between Sharpay and Gabriella a week ago, to an internaut he didn’t even know the full name of, he would have right down laughed in their face. The writer honestly didn’t mind talking about anything and everything with @fullsun, as long as it didn’t itch at his skin. They hadn’t brought up Mark’s writer block again since that first time and he was eternally grateful for it. Allowing the artist to keep on drawing whatever thing was inspired by his writings, @fullsun had since then never mentioned his project again and had just kept on chatting up to Mark.

However, as his conversations with @fullsun grew more and more important throughout the days, Mark had barely talked to Haechan since their last hang out after his class. They were back to square one. The boy seemed to be purposely ignoring him as he would duck out of the way every time they crossed paths. He didn’t even look mad or anything, but Mark couldn’t decipher what he was feeling either, given the expressionless face he was constantly sporting. They spent most of their time on opposite sides of the house and Haechan would only address him if absolutely necessary. Mark truly didn’t know what he had done that annoyed the other, but it was starting to get on his nerves.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and the only thing Mark hoped for was a peaceful dinner, considering he hadn’t had one in ages. And so, he’d hope that Haechan, Donghyuck or whatever, would be civil.

He had just sent out his answer to @fullsun as a loud shrill reverberated through the house.

_“Donghyuck, for god’s sake, put that damn thing down, wipe that stupid smile off your face and come help me with the sauce!”_

Mark could just imagine Haechan’s eyes rolling, as he looked down at his phone, waiting for @fullsun to reply. But he didn’t get what he was hoping for.

He had left him on read. @ _Fullsun had left him on read. And had been for three full minutes._

Before he could feel himself panicking, Mark rationally tried to calm his quickening heart rate, making up every excuse @fullsun could have.

_He must just be busy or something. Yeah, that’s probably it._

His insecurities surfaced once again at full speed and left him wondering if he had been too obvious. When it came to his writing, it could either be his strongest weapon or his greatest weakness. Despite being a perfectionist, Mark had always been comfortable in his sexuality, so he would naturally be flirtier with his words. And perhaps he was worried he might have come off too strong.

 _I mean, if you claim to be as good as Troy and Gabriella combined, I wanna hear it_ _😉. I would probably die but…_

That fucking winking emoji. Great, now he had probably scared him off with his creepy behavior and his invasion of privacy. Mark couldn’t help but wanted to get to know him better. @Fullsun was so easy to talk to and he had rarely felt this way with anyone before. Except it was Tumblr, not the freaking Tinder app and Mark couldn’t go and ask about their singing abilities to bloggers.

 

When Mark went to bed that night, after checking his phone for the hundredth time, it was not without a hint of anxiety -or dare he said, a whole burden weighing on his chest. He sighed as his message remained unanswered and hesitated to type an apology for about twenty seconds but ended up deciding against it: he had already unraveled way too much weakness to @fullsun, he was not about to cave again. _Despite_ his anxiety eating him alive. _Despite_ his worry being over a simple text message.

But the mischievous glint that Haechan wore in his eyes at dinner was enough to keep him at peace and sending him off to dreamland.

 

***

 

On the night of Christmas Eve, everything seemed to go smoothly. Since it was his first free day of the week, Mark had caught up with Johnny through the afternoon, reminiscing the few times they had spent together as kids, while Haechan had been deeply focused on his artwork, lying on the floor of the living room. The boy had remained silent through the entirety of their exchange, just sneaking a few glances their way when he thought Mark wasn’t looking. If the latter wasn’t so sure about Haechan’s wariness regarding himself, he could have sworn the ghost of a smile had lifted the corners of the sun-kissed boy’s lips every now and then.

Mark was currently checking himself in the mirror of the small adjoining bathroom, as he was deciding whether or not to button the collar of his shirt. It was probably the first Christmas he would enjoy in a while and he wanted to project a good image of himself while staying true to his beliefs. He was probably putting way too much thought than necessary into this, but he wanted to make a great impression.

A knock on the door suddenly interrupted his inner rumination. Coming to lean against the doorframe of the room was Lee Donghyuck in all his glory, looking a tad too gorgeous for Mark’s heart, who was left gapping like a fish: not only because Haechan was literally _glowing_ but also because it was the first proper interaction they had in days.

“Hey,” He greeted quietly.

“Hey,” Mark answered, just as softly.

Haechan shifted uncomfortably against the door, looking down at the floor.

“Uhm… Dinner is almost ready. Mom wanted me to tell you.”

“Oh.”

Mark couldn’t help but sounded a little dejected.

“Well, give me a sec. I’m coming.”

He went back to his collar but noticed that Haechan was still hanging behind, stirring his curiosity.

“Yeah?”

A spark of hope rose in his chest as Haechan threw him a hesitant smile.

“I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I-I don’t know what came over me and I… I was scared you would find me weird afterward.”

He stopped and took a small breath as if he was about to declare an entire speech. Mark smiled fondly at his nervosity. The boy was way too cute for him to handle.

“Also, uhm… you look pretty good.”

Mark’s heart halted for a brief second. Did he hear that right? Haechan was… complimenting him?

A blinding smile finally stretched his features as he gazed softly at the shy boy in front of him.

“Why, thanks Haechan.”

The latter nodded curtly as if he had just made a simple comment about the weather and was on his way to depart when a last-second thought made him suddenly turn around.

“By the way… You can call me Donghyuck, if you want.”

“Why?”

Donghyuck took another look at the floor.

“Uh, no reason. It’s stupid anyway, cause everyone calls me by my real name and the only person that calls me Haechan was still a stranger, like five days ago, so… yeah.”

Mark couldn’t help but frowned a little as he noticed Haechan -wait, Donghyuck’s- conflicted look.

“I mean, sure, if that’s what you want.”

A semi-awkward lull in the conversation made them shift on their feet for a second before Donghyuck cleared his throat, only making them both even more aware of the uncomfortable silence. Mark judged it was time to act before the other could voice his internal thoughts.

“You look quite dashing yourself, Lee Donghyuck.”

He could literally discern the moment Donghyuck’s body froze and color spread on the apple of his cheeks. Mark decided it was the prettiest sight he had been granted with today. And that he didn’t mind seeing it again.

 

***

 

“So Mark, we barely know anything about your life at home, does your mother still act like a stuck-up b-“

“Johnny!” His mother exclaimed indignantly, awestruck.

Mark let out an amused giggle at the young man’s sheepish expression, who didn’t seem to feel in the least bit sorry.

“I mean… does she still act the same?” He sighed softly.

Mark gave them a piteous look, one that was sadly saying all there was to know. He tapped his finger against the ring of his champagne glass, pondering over his answer. Honestly? Yeah, his mother still acted like she always did but he let out the tiniest of smiles grace his face when he met the eyes of Donghyuck across the table: for once, the actions of his pompous mother might have impacted him better than he thought.

“The only thing that matters is that I can spend this Christmas with you guys and believe me, I’m not lying when I say it’s probably gonna be the best one I had in the longest time.”

If Mark noticed Donghyuck fondly rolling his eyes in his peripheral vision, he ignored it and raised his glass high in the air, ready to enjoy his night.

“Cheers!”

The rest of dinner went surprisingly well: by the time dessert was served, it was nearing midnight, and everyone seemed content.

 _Everyone_ , except Donghyuck. For the past half hour, he had been a fidgety mess on his chair, glaring every two seconds at his phone screen. Mark couldn’t help but noticed that he almost looked… distressed. Something was clearly agitating him.

All at once, Donghyuck extricated himself from his seat at a frantic pace. The sudden movement provoked a screeching sound against the floor, putting an end to the peaceful atmosphere.

“Donghyuck…?”

His mother peered at him carefully, almost as if she was afraid of aggravating the situation. The younger boy sported a look of pure terror on his face and Mark swore he had never hated a sight of torment more.

As he tried to reach out, in hopes of calming Donghyuck down, the other flinched and turned around before he could even make contact.

“I gotta go.”

Mark’s heart sank as Mrs. Lee ran after her son, begging him to come back.

Later that night, when he was practically dictated to go to bed while “the grown-ups would handle the situation”, his mind was still racing and coming up with different theories. What could have led Donghyuck to freak out in the middle of the night?

A heavy sigh escaped his lips at he looked at his phone once more.

_Merry Christmas, pal!_

No message from Donghyuck.

And no answer from @fullsun either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comment your thoughts or theories :) Feedback makes me write faster hehe...  
> have a good day/night!

**Author's Note:**

> hope it didn't bore you to death... Once again, I apologize for any mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. Anyway, kudos and comments are highly appreciated, no matter the length! :)


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